I feel as though I shall go mad if you give your love to
another; save me by writing me. Writing! how cold. God help me!--Your
LIONEL."
Capt. Trevalyon, not thinking to see Vaura, had, before going into the
garden, gone to her boudoir, and placed this mute farewell on her
chair.
"Now my darling knows," she thought as she pressed them to her lips.
There were warm Christmas greetings exchanged between the two women
friends, on meeting in the breakfast room. When the servants were
released from duty, duty, Lady Esmondet said:
"Dear Lionel has left us something to remember him, at least for
to-day, Vaura, _ma chere_, see here," and she held up two vinaigrettes
she had been admiring; on the cover to the stopper of one was the name
"Alice Esmondet," on the other, "Vaura Vernon." Both bottles were
small and both gold; on one side of Vaura's were the words, "I am
weary waiting, L. T.," in very small letters, while a tiny wreath of
forget-me-nots encircled the words; blue stones, inlaid, formed the
flowers; round each was a slip of paper--with the words: "With love
and Christmas wishes, from Lionel Trevalyon.
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